


The Youngest Musketeer

by lucky13cat



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucky13cat/pseuds/lucky13cat
Summary: d'Artagnan gets turned into a child, and it's up to his friends to take care of him. Shame that d'Artagnan can find trouble at any age.





	The Youngest Musketeer

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure insanity. I'll add more as I get inspired, but don't ever plan on getting an explanation as to how d'Artagnan exactly became a toddler. Even I don't know.

“How the hell did he end up like this?” Aramis stared at the young boy in Athos’s arms. Athos glared at him for his vulgarity, but Aramis just shrugged. If the kid was d’Artagnan then he’d heard worse from them.

“Court magician,” Athos responded curtly. Aramis watched as d’Artagnan turned in Athos’ arms to look up at his mentor. The child seemed mesmerized by Athos and was trying to get his attention. Athos steadfastly did not look down at the young child, forcing his gaze onto Aramis instead. “Asked for a volunteer, and d’Artagnan was picked. Treville is dealing with the man currently.”

Apparently not liking the lack of attention being paid to him, d’Artagnan reached up and poked at Athos’ cheek. Aramis had to stifle a laugh and judging by a loud cough from Porthos, he wasn’t the only one. Athos ignored the young d’Artagnan, frustrating the youth to no end. The boy seemed to really want Athos’ attention, and the longer he went without it, the more exasperated he got. Good to see that d’Artagnan acted the same regardless of age.

Deciding to up the ante, d’Artagnan reached up with both hands and grabbed Athos’ cheeks. He tugged on the man’s cheeks so that he would look at d’Artagnan and pay attention to whatever the toddler wanted to say.

With a sigh, Athos looked down at d’Artagnan with a raised eyebrow, and d’Artagnan smiled cheekily up at the Musketeer. Aramis did laugh this time at the picture the two made.

“Down please,” Aramis nearly cooed at the adorable little boy. Porthos apparently felt the same judging by the smile spreading on his face when he stepped forward to get a closer look.

“Are you going to run off?” Athos asked simply, and d’Artagnan shook his head empathetically, his dark hair flopping around his face. Athos sighed and placed the little boy down. He looked up at Athos to see if the man was still watching him. Seeing that Athos was still watching him, d’Artagnan walked over to Aramis and Porthos, glancing back at Athos every couple steps to make sure the man was still there.

“Well hello little one,” Porthos knelt down in front of d’Artagnan with a smile. “Aren’t you a bit smaller than the last time I saw ya?”

“I’m not little!” d’Artagnan protested, crossing his arms which served only to make him look even younger and cuter.

“Really? Well, how old are you?” Aramis knelt down next to Porthos. d’Artagnan turned to him and smiled at the question though he did not yet uncross his arms.

“Five!” d’Artagnan announced proudly. Aramis saw Athos hide a smile behind his hand and sent his friend a beaming smile.

“Five? Surely not! That’s much too grown up!” Aramis teased the little boy. d’Artagnan smiled up at him, and Aramis’ heart melted. “See Porthos, the lad is clearly not little!”

Porthos chuckled and raised his hands in defeat. Aramis saw d’Artagnan regard him carefully before he uncrossed his arms, Porthos’ unintended insult seemingly forgiven.

Eager to explore, d’Artagnan turned in a slow circle to take in the entire Garrison. A true Gascon farm boy, he started towards the stables when he saw the horses in their stalls, but Porthos was quick to stop him.

“You hungry lad?” d’Artagnan’s eyes grew wide, and he nodded up at Porthos and allowed the man to lead him towards the kitchens. Aramis could hear Porthos’ animated voice as he told d’Artagnan all about Serge’s special honey cakes. Aramis stood up and went to stand next to Athos.

“He’s going to be a handful,” Athos said as he watched the two depart with eagle-eyed intensity. He took a minute step forward when d’Artagnan looked into the stables, but Porthos quickly shepherded the boy into the kitchens where Serge would no doubt spoil the boy rotten with honey cakes and sweets. He didn’t turn to look at Aramis until d’Artagnan was out of sight.

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis laughed. “Now whatever gave you the idea that he wouldn’t be?”

 X

It soon became clear that d’Artagnan had placed the entire Garrison under his spell. No one could resist the Gascon boy’s puppy dog eyes, particularly his three brothers. This more often than not led to a great amount of trouble as the King’s most talented Musketeers fell victim to the whims of the adorable five-year-old.

This adorable boy did spark a great deal of overprotective instincts in the regiment, however. He was accompanied everywhere he went with more than enough volunteers to watch the boy should it be needed. Not that these protective instincts were unfounded. The boy seemed capable of finding trouble no matter what age it seemed.

“d’Artagnan let me see what you have?” Athos called out suspiciously when he saw the young Gascon come sprinting into the courtyard. Porthos and Athos looked up from what they were doing and watched d’Artagnan’s excited run.

“A knife!” d’Artagnan’s voice rang across the Garrison with childlike glee effectively silencing the entire courtyard.

“No!” Athos was chasing d’Artagnan in an instant.

“Athos, oh my God why does he have a knife?” Aramis watched in shock as d’Artagnan evaded Athos.

The little boy giggled as ran around the courtyard. It was clear he’d found his way into the armory, and instead of leaving the room immediately, he’d stolen what looked to be a very sharp and very dangerous main-gauche and come into the courtyard to show off his prize, giving everyone in the courtyard simultaneous heart attacks.

d’Artagnan laughed as he managed to cause Athos to trip. He took advantage of his pursuer’s momentary distraction and ran for the stairs. Luckily Athos was able to recover quickly and cut the boy off before he’d gotten up one stair.

The main-gauche was quickly taken from the Gascon and placed in Porthos’ waiting hands. Upon closer inspection, Aramis could recognize that it was d’Artagnan’s own, which was supposed to be stored away safely in the armory until the lad was turned back to his proper age. They were going to have to update the security measures obviously.

Athos brought the squirming boy into his arms and held him tightly. After a few moments of futile squirming, d’Artagnan gave up and looked up at Athos. It became apparent to the small child that Athos was trying to calm his nerves, which had taken quite a beating the last few minutes.

“’Thos?” d’Artagnan reached up and patted Athos’ cheeks. Aramis and Porthos could tell by the set of Athos’ shoulders that he was struggling to control his emotions. “What’s wrong ‘Thos? ‘Thos?”

“You are to never do that again d’Artagnan.” Athos’ voice was firm and allowed for no argument. “That was an incredibly dangerous thing to do. You could have hurt yourself.”

“Sorry ‘Thos.” d’Artagnan was pouting. He stared up at Athos with his big brown eyes, but for once no one was going to fall for them. They were still recovering and not exactly forgiving. “I was just playing with it! Wasn’t gonna get hurt.”

Athos gave d’Artagnan an unimpressed look, and the little boy averted his gaze sheepishly.

“It was just sitting there, and it looked like no one was going to use it. I wanted to be like you ‘Thos.” Athos’ eyes widened as d’Artagnan continued to babble, and Aramis could recognize that this was the opposite of what his friend ever wanted to hear. “A Musketeer!”

“When you’re older.” Athos managed out. Aramis winced in sympathy at Athos’ obvious discomfort. “I will teach you how to use that weapon, but until then you are to never pick up another weapon again. Do you understand d’Artagnan?”

“Yes ‘Thos,” d’Artagnan said softly, also picking up on the distress that was coming off Athos in waves. d’Artagnan turned his head towards the kitchens and then back to Athos. “Can we have a snack?”

“Yes,” Athos sighed. “You can have a snack.”


End file.
